


Stirring the Pot

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Little Things [124]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Community: fma_fic_contest, F/M, Humor, Implied Relationships, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  It's easy to push Ed past the boiling point.<br/>Disclaimer:  If I owned this, there'd have been more kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stirring the Pot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "salt in the wound".

Edward ground his teeth together loudly.

“Brother,” Alphonse sighed.

“What?”

Frowning at the bad temper evident in that single, snapped syllable, Alphonse said, “If you didn’t want Winry to go out with Pitt, you could’ve asked her out yourself.”

Edward sneered. “That gearhead can go out with anyone she wants. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Uh, huh.” Alphonse wasn’t convinced. “How come you keep checking the windows?”

With only a hint of annoyance at being caught out, Edward let go of the curtain. “Looks like it might rain.”

“And why’d you tell Winry that Pitt’s a masher?”

“Because he’s always been grabby!” Growling, Edward leaned against the windowsill. “I’m just looking out for Winry.”

Alphonse smirked. “What’ll you do if Pitt asks Winry out on another date?” he almost purred, “or kisses her?”

Doing a remarkable impression of a fish out of water, with his mouth flapping like that, Edward finally shouted, “That’s it!”

“What’s it?” He couldn’t quite keep the smirk from spreading.

“That – that - ” Edward pointed a trembling finger at Alphonse.

“Pitt?” Alphonse supplied helpfully.

“Masher,” Edward snarled, “isn’t getting his grubby paws on Winry!” He stomped for the door, sidestepping Pinako on his way, grabbing an umbrella before he slammed his way out of the house.

Granny wagged a finger at Alphonse as she came into the living room. “Are you rubbing salt in your brother’s wounds again, Alphonse?”

He grinned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Like he’d learn any other way.”


End file.
